Even a few days after he had first started staying at the Inn, Errol still jumped out of bed in the morning when he first opened his brown eyes and saw the wooden beams of the Inn above his head, and not a thick cloud of green with sunlight desperately attempting to punch through the forest floor. He would quickly grab his cane off the nightstand, then, more slowly, lay it back down as he realized where he was. Home, or something close enough to it.

In between getting his meals and exploring the streets around the Inn, Errol had had plenty of time to think of the stunning generosity that Des and numerous other patrons of the bar had shown him. He had possessed nothing but the damaged, self-made clothes on his back, a roughly carved cane, and a coinpurse with only four copper coins. And yet, they had given him more than he could imagine. Even now, just thinking about the moment made him want to tear up. But he couldn't.

At least thinking of their generosity took Errol's mind off of the things he couldn't remember. His full name. His job. Most of his past. And, he thought darkly, there were certain things he was pretty sure he had forgotten for a good reason. With that, he picked up his cane again, threw off the covers, and began limping towards the door exiting his room. He had a lot to do today.